


I'm Not Bad, I'm Just Drawn That Way

by flowerfan



Category: Glee
Genre: Badboy!Kurt, College AU, First Meeting, M/M, TDB 2016 Gift Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7623088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine’s a freshman with a crush on a bad boy art student.  Will he ever get a chance to talk to Kurt, or will the cretins on the swim team interfere with his plans?</p><p>TW:  Homophobic language, slurs, bullying, threats</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not Bad, I'm Just Drawn That Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackrose1002](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrose1002/gifts).



> Thanks so much to blackrose1002 (don’t-stop-believin-in-klaine on tumblr) for the awesome prompt (and for the one I'm using for my KHBB fic). This is a gift for her. Readers, I put the prompt at the end – I hope I did it justice.
> 
> And thanks to my awesome beta and friend, perry_avenue.

Blaine does not understand why, with hundreds of kids and over twenty different sections in his Econ 101 class, he has to get assigned to the only section that meets at 9:30 at night, all the way across campus from his dorm. And to make it worse, his section seems to be populated entirely by students who are decidedly less than studious, and entirely disinterested in participating in class discussions. 

Blaine enjoys participating in class, even with a topic as dull as economics, but has finally had stopped raising his hand after the TA says for the third time in a row “can we hear from someone _other_ than Blaine, please?” It’s embarrassing. And boring. But it’s a required class, so he doesn’t have much of a choice.

As the semester wears on, and the autumn days get colder, Blaine finds himself searching for ways to walk home that minimize his time spent outdoors. He can cut through the science building easily enough, going in through the back door, winding his way through the hallways by the labs, and out past the dimly lit café that always has a few math majors doggedly reviewing their problem sets no matter what time of night it is. Then it’s just a block to the student center, where he does the same thing, walking in one side, through the student lounge, past the study carrels, and out other end. 

From here, it is only about six more blocks, through the arts quad, past the tower dorms, and finally down to the river, where most of the freshmen are housed, including himself. 

His roommate, Sam, finds the whole thing hysterical. “I don’t understand why you won’t just walk home the regular way, dude,” he says when Blaine first reveals his plan. “It probably takes you twice as long like this. Just shove a hat on your head and deal with the cold like everyone else.”

That is easy for Sam to say. With his Californian good looks and dark blond hair he looks adorable with a little beanie perched on his head. But when Blaine puts on the hat his mom sent, he just looks like a geek with a nose that is slightly crooked - and probably turning red from the cold as well.

Anyway, to be fair, it doesn’t take twice as long. In fact, it only adds five minutes and twenty-seven seconds to the original sixteen minute route. Blaine has timed it.

What Blaine hasn’t admitted to Sam is that there is another, more compelling reason that he keeps taking the long route home, and it has nothing to do with timing or the cold weather. The arts quad includes several classroom buildings, as well as Morton, the upperclassman house favored by the edgier members of the student body, ringing a small green space (or at least, it’s green when it isn’t freezing outside). And every evening, right around the time Blaine gets out of his section, Morton’s residents can be found hanging out by the empty fountain in the center of the quad. 

The first time Blaine passes through the quad on his way back to his dorm, he doesn’t take much notice of who is congregating around the fountain. He’s not very interested in smoking, regardless of what is being smoked, and that seems to be the main attraction of the outdoor gathering spot. But on his second time through, he notices someone sitting off to the side who immediately catches his attention. The boy is striking, tall and lean, a stripe of blue in his hair almost glittering in the glow from the streetlight. His long legs are clad in leather, stretched out in front of him as he sits back, reading something on his phone. Much to Blaine’s surprise the boy looks up at him just as he gets close, and Blaine stops so quickly that the girl walking behind him bumps right into his back.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” he says reflexively, helping her pick up her bag and the water bottle that went rolling away down the path. By the time he turns back to look for the boy, he’s gone.

It becomes the highlight of his Tuesday and Thursday nights, rushing out of his section meeting, through the science building and the student center, and out to the arts quad, hoping to see the boy again. Most nights he is there, in the same spot, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, phone in his hand. He never looks up at Blaine again, and Blaine, for all his curiosity, never says anything to the boy.

He thinks about it, of course. He imagines stopping at the student center for two cups of coffee, finding the boy in the quad, casually sitting down next to him and holding out one of the cups. The boy would take it, nodding shyly, and then they’d start talking about anything and everything, leading to a first date, and a second, and not long afterwards, declarations of love.

“Sounds like a fanfic,” Sam says, when Blaine gets up the courage to ask him if he thinks it could work. “Except you need some more detail. Maybe he hates coffee, but you somehow anticipated that, and brought him hot chocolate instead. Or he’s dealing with a personal trauma, but you’re patient with him, and eventually he opens up. Or – wait, I know the perfect one – he’s being bullied, and you save him from his tormentors.”

Or maybe the curly-haired boy is just too shy, and will never get up the nerve to talk with the gorgeous art student at all. Blaine sighs, and opened up his laptop to his history reading. 

A few weeks later, Blaine discovers that his dull and boring Econ section can indeed get worse. It turns out that several of the boys in the group are on the swim team – Tyler, the junior varsity captain, and his cronies, Jason, Brendan, and Luke. Practices have apparently been getting more frequent, and the swim team boys seem to think that this entitles them to special treatment. Some negotiating goes on, and the TA agrees to move the Tuesday night meetings to Wednesdays, which somehow coordinates better with the swim team’s schedule.

On the first Wednesday night meeting, however, Tyler and his buddies are forty-five minutes late to the ninety-minute meeting. This aggravates the TA, and he loses patience with the swim team guys, calling them out on their thoughtless behavior. He accuses them of not caring about Econ. Not surprisingly, this doesn’t impress them. Instead of apologizing contritely, they laugh wildly at him, and the TA stomps out of the room.

Blaine can’t help but feel sorry for the guy. The TA’s probably only a few years older than these cretins, but he deserves their respect, if only due to the fact that he actually did the reading. And, of course, because he’s responsible for half their grade.

Blaine is lost in thought as he leaves class, brainstorming ways that the TA could have handled the situation better, when he realizes that the swim team members are behind him on the sidewalk. They are complaining vociferously about their TA, getting each other more and more riled up. Blaine speeds up his pace, hoping to put some more distance between himself and the boys.

He stops in his tracks, however, when he hears what Tyler is saying. 

“He treats all of us like shit, except for that kiss-ass Blaine. They’re probably fucking.”

“I bet you’re right,” another one of them says. “Blaine’s probably actually kissing his ass. An actual kiss-ass, get it?”

“Oooh Blaine, keep going, harder, harder,” Tyler squeals. 

Blaine knows better than to confront these guys – not on a dark, deserted street, four against one. They’d beat him to a pulp, and he’s been down that road before. He frantically looks around, hoping to find a place to hide before they notice him.

Of course, he’s too late.

“Wait – who’s that? What a coincidence - it’s the ass-fucker himself.”

Creative, they are not, Blaine thinks, turning to face them and squaring his shoulders. He’s pretty sure his boxing lessons didn’t prepare him for this, but you never know.

“What’s the matter, Blainey? Your boyfriend not walking you home from class today?” Jason says, coming up into his space. Tyler and one of the other guys walk around behind him, and Blaine can’t even keep them all in sight. He may just pass out and save himself the trouble of even trying to fight.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Blaine says pointlessly, looking over his shoulder at Tyler. Maybe appealing to the alpha idiot will help? “I don’t want any trouble.”

Just then an impressive wolf whistle causes them all to turn and look back towards the student center.

“Boys, boys, boys, you’re going in the wrong direction.” A fierce looking girl with long dark hair saunters over to them, her high heels magically unaffected by the cobblestone sidewalk. “Aren’t you coming to my party tonight?”

“Santana – of course we’re coming. We were just-”

“Well, hurry it up then. I needs to get my party on.”

Like rats following the pied piper, Santana draws Tyler and his friends away, and Blaine breathes out a sigh of relief. He’s got a problem, but at least he probably won’t be visiting the emergency room tonight.

Blaine skips the next section meeting. He knows it isn’t the best way to handle the situation, but he’s too afraid to see the swim team kids again. He emails the TA and tells him he’s got a stomach bug, and the TA generously offers to meet him the next night for dinner to go over the materials. Of course, Jason just happens to see him at the dining hall with the TA, and proceeds to make lewd signs at them behind the TA’s back. Blaine is doomed.

Luckily, Thanksgiving break is the following week, and section doesn’t meet at all. But then another Wednesday rolls around, and Blaine has no choice but to go to class. He’s hoping that enough time has gone by that Tyler and the others have found something else to capture their attention.

It’s good enough for a working theory, especially since the four of them spend most of the class with their heads down on their desks, moaning about the 5 a.m. emergency practice their coach had called this morning. When class is over, Blaine high tails it out of there, practically running to get ahead of the others. There’s a hold up in the student center, though – some kind of performance going on, and everyone has filled the hallways to watch. 

By the time Blaine gets through the building and out the other side, Tyler and his friends have somehow gotten ahead of him. They haven’t seen him yet, though, so he dashes down the nearest side street to consider his options. There really isn’t any way to get back to his dorm without going back out in their direction, but he hopes if he just waits a little while, they’ll keep moving down the street. Unless, of course, they are just waiting to torment him again, which is a real possibility.

Blaine sits down on the curb, wrapping his pea coat more tightly around his shoulders. The street light above him flickers as the wind gusts, making him wish he had a better plan.

Suddenly headlights shine in his eyes, and a purple mini-bus pulls up in front of him. The door unfolds itself open, and the driver looks down at him, a bored expression on his face.

“Welcome to the Westlake College Night Bus, emergency travel for stranded college students,” the man says in a monotone. “My name is Kurt, and I’ll be your conductor for the evening.”

Blaine shakes his head and gets on with a sigh. Leave it to him to find the one shuttle bus driver with a sense of humor.

“Very funny. But thanks.”

The driver looks up at his comment and Blaine nearly stumbles backwards down the stairs. His driver is the sexy boy with the blue streak in his hair. Blaine hasn’t seen him since before Thanksgiving, and his face lights up despite himself.

“Hey – it’s you!”

The boy – Kurt – looks at Blaine thoughtfully. “It is. Who else would it be?”

“No, I mean – you’re the gorgeous boy from the arts quad.” Blaine wants to run back out of the bus when he realizes what he said. Very smooth.

But a smile flits across Kurt’s face, and he tilts his head flirtatiously. “That could be me.”

“How are you here? I always see you by Morton…”

“I drive Monday and Wednesday nights. And I make it my business to pay attention to people in need of assistance.”

Blaine feels a flush rise over his face. “You know Tyler and those guys?”

Kurt nods. “They’re not even the worst. I tried to get the bus to you last time, but you weren’t in a good spot for me to pull up, so I sent Santana instead.”

“Santana… the girl who lured them away?”

Kurt smiles. “Indeed.” A car honks behind them, and Kurt motions for Blaine to sit down so he can start driving. “Where are you off to this evening?” 

Blaine sighs. “I don’t know, actually. My roommate is having friends over, so I thought I’d go to the library. But then I’d still have to walk past the towers to get home, and with the way my luck is going, Tyler would decide to hang out there until midnight.”

“You could always call the night bus,” Kurt says, looking back over his shoulder at Blaine.

“I could.”

“Or,” Kurt says, drawing it out, “you could ride with me for another half hour or so, and then come back to my place.”

“Your place?”

“Yup.” Kurt doesn’t elaborate, just leaves Blaine to wonder as he drives loop after loop around campus. He picks up a few more students (but doesn’t give his Night Bus speech to any of them), drops them off at their dorms, or the library, and hums to himself as he goes. 

Blaine sits in silence, weighing his options. He’s pretty clear on the “pros” of going home with Kurt – Kurt is sexy as hell, Blaine’s been pining after him for weeks, and apparently, Kurt been paying attention of one sort or another to Blaine. He’s not sure what Kurt has in mind, but he doesn’t think he’d object to much of anything.

As far as “cons” he’s coming up empty. He thinks he’s got a pretty healthy attitude towards being sexually active, has had a few hookups with friendly guys here and there, and a longer term relationship before coming to college. No one’s going to judge him for spending the night with a hot guy, and he won’t feel bad about it himself. 

So when Kurt pulls up in a marked parking space behind Morton and shoots him a quizzical look, Blaine answers the question Kurt posed half an hour ago.

“Sure, I’ll come over to your place.”

By the time they get up to Kurt’s room, Blaine is beginning to question his decision. Kurt is way, way out of his league. His eyes are a thing of beauty, and flash enticingly at Blaine as he leads him down the hall. Kurt walks down the hall as if he owns the place, with a sway to his step that hints at extremely toned muscles underneath those tight leather pants - pants which serve to highlight the enticing curve of his ass as he goes up the stairs in front of Blaine.

Several students in various degrees of hipster chic nod knowingly at Kurt as they walk down the hall, and Blaine wonders if Kurt brings home boys in need of assistance all the time. Kurt unlocks his door and turns on the light inside, and Blaine steps in. It’s like a little apartment, living room, tiny kitchen, and a bedroom and single bath. These art students really have it good, Blaine thinks. He tries to focus back on the matter at hand, but is distracted by the thought of a parade of boys being led by Kurt into his private sex lair. 

But before he can question Kurt about his intentions, however, or give him an out to save face, Kurt plops down on the sofa, arms and legs akimbo. It’s as if he has been immediately transformed – he looks entirely unlike the suave bad boy Blaine had met. 

“Oh my lord, these pants are tight,” Kurt moans. But it isn’t a sexy moan, or a flirtatious moan, just the complaint of a guy who has had tight pants on for far too long. “I’d go change, but I’m too tired to even get off the couch.” He runs a hand through his hair, sending the blue streak off in two different directions. It’s adorable.

Blaine takes off his pea coat and hangs it on the rack by the door, tugs off his boots, and sits down on the couch next to Kurt. “I’ve had a long day myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It was downright awful, in fact, right up until this cute guy swept in to rescue me.”

A pretty blush rises on Kurt’s cheeks. “Cute, huh? Not gorgeous anymore?”

Blaine grins. “He kind of switches back and forth. I’ve never met anyone like him.”

“You’re pretty cute yourself.”

“It’s the curls. They’re deceptive,” he says boldly.

Kurt reaches out and twirls a curl around his finger, and Blaine sucks in a quick breath. Kurt’s eyes are blue this close up, but he could swear they were green before. 

“They are,” Kurt says, shifting closer to Blaine on the couch. “They distracted me from your eyes.”

Blaine giggles, and Kurt smiles, and they both stare giddily at each other for a moment. “I’d really like to kiss you now, if that’s okay,” Kurt says, and Blaine closes his eyes and leans in, only to be met with empty air. “But first I really have to go change. Kurt stands up, grinning at Blaine. “Sorry.”

Blaine looks through the fashion magazines on the coffee table for a minute or two, and then Kurt is back. He’s wearing a soft gray shirt with a wide neck that reveals his collarbone, and loose black yoga pants.

“You are gorgeous, you know,” Blaine says, his breath suddenly leaving him. “No question.”

“As are you. I saw you in the debate match last weekend, you know, where you completely decimated your opponent. The poor guy looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. You’re either brilliant or very clever – or both.”

Blaine stores away the compliment for later. He’s still stuck on the first part. “You saw me? I didn’t know you were on the debate team.” There are a lot of kids on the team, but he’s sure he would have noticed if one of them was Kurt.

“No, I’m not a debater. I’m nowhere near a good enough rule follower for that. My friend Rachel does policy, though. She’s pretty good. And she’s the one that convinced me to come watch your debate.”

“Why?”

Kurt sits down on the couch, folding one long leg under himself. “Because I was whining to her about not seeing my curly-haired crush in weeks, and when I showed her your picture, she took pity on me and told me all about you.”

“Really? So – you knew who I was before tonight?”

Kurt shrugs. “I try to use my powers for good.”

“But wait, how did you have my picture?”

“Art student, remember?” Kurt reaches over to a side table and finds a sketch pad. Inside are several pencil drawings of Blaine – in his pea coat and red scarf, dressed casually in the dining hall, and a close up of his face with an expression that is somehow difficult to look at. It takes Blaine right back to how he felt when Tyler was threatening him.

“You’re very good.”

“You’re an excellent subject.”

Blaine studies Kurt, the light freckles on the bridge of his nose, the earrings trailing up one ear, the way his lips quirk up in a smile. Something lights up inside of him, and Blaine knows he has dramatically underestimated the importance of Kurt’s invitation to come over tonight.

“You know a lot about me,” Blaine says. “I’d like to learn more about you.” 

Blaine pulls his legs up underneath him and sits cross-legged, facing Kurt. They talk about anything and everything, and the night flies by. Kurt hints at trouble with bullying in high school that sounds awfully similar to what Blaine went through, and Blaine realizes that the bad boy role is one Kurt slips into as a form of self-protection. At some point Kurt orders pizza, and they eat it sitting on the floor, some cooking show playing on the television, while they quiz each other about their current pop culture obsessions. 

Blaine doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when he wakes up, it’s morning. He’s on the couch with a throw blanket tucked neatly around him and a stale taste of pepperoni in his mouth. He hears Kurt in the bathroom, and as soon as Kurt darts out and into his bedroom, Blaine takes his turn, washing his face and brushing his teeth with his finger and a dab of toothpaste.

When he emerges, Kurt is standing in the doorway to his bedroom, a shy smile on his face. “Hope the couch wasn’t too uncomfortable.”

“It wasn’t.”

Kurt shifts from one leg to the other. He’s wearing sinfully tight jeans, and a white crew neck sweater that hugs his trim body like a glove. Blaine can imagine precisely how his leather jacket will complete his outfit, rendering him a bad boy once again. “I’ve got class in an hour,” he says, in a voice tinged with regret. “Got to go out and face the world.”

Blaine nods. “I’ve got to get back home, anyway.” He glances down at himself. “Change clothes, and all.”

“I had a really good time with you,” Kurt says. Blaine thinks he sounds sad, and he’s not sure why.

“I did, too. Want to do it again sometime?”

Kurt’s eyes brighten. “Really?”

Blaine laughs, and reaches out to take Kurt’s hand. It’s soft and warm, and curls readily around his own. “Of course. I mean, we didn’t even get to kiss last night.”

“You still want to kiss me? Even though I’m not exactly who you thought I was?”

Blaine steps closer, and cups his hand around Kurt’s cheek. “Believe me, there is nothing I would like more.”

The kiss starts off soft, but then Kurt’s hands are on his waist, pulling him closer. Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt’s shoulders, leaning his chest against Kurt’s. Blaine hears himself moan, and then Kurt’s got a hand on his ass. He’s not sure he’s ever gotten aroused quite so fast, and it’s fantastic.

It’s not long before Kurt steps back, leaving Blaine blinking and breathing heavily. “Holy shit, Kurt, that was amazing.”

Kurt smirks. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“Are you sure you’re not a bad boy?” Blaine tilts his head inquiringly.

“I can be anything you want me to be.”

Blaine moves closer and touches a barely there kiss to Kurt’s lips, tender and full of promise. “How about you just be you?”

Kurt touches his own lips with a finger, almost disbelieving, and then takes Blaine’s hand. “I’d really like that.”

“Go out with me?”

“Not even Voldemort could stop me.”

“What about Tyler?”

Kurt grins. “Tyler’s no match for me.” He pulls on his leather jacket and strikes a pose, leaning against the wall, one foot bent up behind him. His bad boy persona returns in an instant.

Blaine feels his pulse race. “Kurt, I have the feeling we’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

“Blaine, you have no idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: College (NOT high school) AU - badboy!Kurt and Blaine (not very nerdy, just a regular student) go to the same college and something happens that makes Kurt defend Blaine from that something (someone?). After that they get to know each other, they get closer, and eventually they end up getting together, though Kurt is hesitant at first because he doesn't want people to judge Blaine because he's dating him.
> 
> I think I came pretty close to the prompt, although Kurt turned out to be a secret softy; he’s not really worried about people judging Blaine, he’s more worried about Blaine not being satisfied with only a part-time bad boy. He took control of the story and there was nothing I could do about it. Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Also -the title is a quote from Jessica Rabbit, a gorgeous and sexy cartoon character in the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit.


End file.
